Talent
by The Mishmosh Bird
Summary: So there's this word. It annoys Dick Grayson above all else. Makes him want to rant and scream everytime he hears it directed at him. And it always is directed at him. Talent.


**Hi people,**

 **It's generally agreed that Batman trained insanely hard to get where he is, that Jason worked for everything he had, that Tim studies way more than he ought to, but... it's accepted that Dick is all play no work, which I find strange. No one gets this good without working themselves to the bone and I think it's time Dick got the credit he's due.**

 **Update: Still mostly unchanged, just went around and fixed up some typos. Also, thanks so much for the favourites! When I posted this, I never realized it would get so much attention, truly, not when it's so short.**

 **Disclaimer; haha, still no.**

 **Without further ado,**

 **TALENT**

 _ **By The Mishmosh Bird**_

There's a word. Well, not a word, precisely. Technically, it's more of an idea, a concept you might say, but it usually comes in the form of a word.

So there's this word. It annoys Dick Grayson above all else. Makes him want to rant and throw a fit everytime he hears it directed at him. And it always is directed at him.

Talent.

Oh, the loathsome connotations and implications it carries. Oh, the mind-addling qualities.

So he's good at hacking? Talent. So he's an acrobat? Talent. So he's a mathlete of a practically genius level? Talent.

Sure Dick will admit that he has a certain penchant for these things. He'd admit, perhaps, that they've presented themselves to him in a way that is more accessible than they do for others.

But that word. Talent. There are certain implications to that word. Mostly along the lines of not needing to work particularly hard. Of the idea that all those fanciful spins flips he like to incorporate into his fighting style, all that complicated coding, multi-layered digits and numbers that twist themselves into knots, came naturally. Like he has been presented some God-given qualities that explained away his success. That he'd won the near-unobtainable gene lottery, which placed him, by nature, above others in some way.

No. Just no.

That's like saying the superpowered folk had no need to train their abilities. That, by some bizarre designation, they not only received the gifts (curses?) but also the technical know-how, the necessary muscle memory required to use it, and knowledge of all the pitfalls and consequences that they must avoid. And the most devastating assumption of all; that their ability arrives at full power.

No ability arrives at full power. They must be cultivated, cared for, carefully coaxed and teased out of their shells.

Here Dick would like to take the time to add that as a regular human he'd have to hone his skills even more to keep up with his older, mostly superpowered, teammates. He wasn't about to allow himself to become a liability and fall behind. He was the freaking protege of _Batman._ This can only be achieved through hours, many many hours, of dedicated work, back-breaking work. Through running himself to the ground in the gymnasium on his Saturdays and Sundays and Friday afternoons, so long as there aren't any missions. Not on school days, as school days are for piling on the math problems and grunt mental calculation to maintain his hacking. Technology is on a steep slope of advancement, Dick is only useful on that front if he advances with it.

He'll even go out on a limb here and say that he trains at least twice as hard as any of his other teammates. Even Artemis. Hey, he's the one with the Boy Wonder title, thank you very much.

Dick never advertised his prolific training. What would be the point? Sympathy? Recognition? To make his teammates feel bad? Heck, if that's what he wanted, all Dick had to do was open the waterworks and let slip that he was an orphan. And besides, he's already got Wally for that stuff. One teammate knowing his identity is plenty enough.

And speaking of Wally, he's currently gaping at Dick like a fish out of water.

"Wait, did I hear you right? Four to six hours?! _Daily?_ "

Dick just nodded.

"How do you even squeeze it in?"

"Oh, I kind of … only need four to three hours of sleep."

"Shut up, how is it even humanly possible to train more than you sleep?"

"Huh, I never thought of it that way. It's just habit by now."

Wally, thankfully, was beginning to wind down.

"So that's why you're so good. I always thought it was because you're talented."

"Well," Dick said with way too much satisfaction, "now you know better."

 **Thanks for reading and please leave a comment, favourite, whatever strikes your fantasy. Quite honestly, they make my day.**

 **~Bird**


End file.
